


i can't say anything to your face ('cause look at your face)

by greyspilot



Series: there are an infinite number of universes (and we belong together in every one) [7]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M, Steve Harrington is bad at flirting, billy hargrove is smooth af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24209143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyspilot/pseuds/greyspilot
Summary: requested by @xgardeninspace on tumblr: "Darling, I fancy you." + "Guess I’ll just stumble on home to my cats, alone. Unless you wanna come along."
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: there are an infinite number of universes (and we belong together in every one) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1661146
Comments: 6
Kudos: 75





	i can't say anything to your face ('cause look at your face)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xWastedIntellectual_13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xWastedIntellectual_13/gifts).



> title from Gorgeous by Taylor Swift

Steve could see the guy, though he was barely a shadow in his peripheral vision, lit only by the dim streetlight behind him and the orange glow of the cigarette between pink lips.

The guy was watching him, had been watching him _all night_. Had been sat at the bar, refusing the drinks bought for him and refusing to buy any _himself,_ despite Steve’s _you’re gonna have to buy something, man, or free up that seat_ every half hour. The guy didn’t buy anything, and he definitely didn’t free up the seat, just watched Steve work with eyes that were too blue to be real.

The guy had been watching him for hours, and he hadn’t _said_ anything and Robin had nudged him in the ribs, told Steve to _get his number or get him outta here_. Heather had said _only serial killers stare like that._

And maybe Heather had a point. And maybe Steve should probably be a little more _concerned_ than he was, but maybe it was three in the morning, and maybe Steve hadn’t felt wanted in _months_ and maybe it was nice that this guy with _too blue to be real_ eyes and pretty pink lips was _looking_. That he _wanted_.

And fuck. Maybe Steve was a little too tired - was running on too much coffee and too little sleep - to care about his own wellbeing.

But then Steve checked his phone and- only seven minutes until his Uber got here.

He had time to kill, so-

“See somethin’ that tickles your fancy?”

Not his best line.

Possibly his _worst_ line.

In fact, not even a line at all (but he would blame that on the fact that it was three in the _goddamn_ morning and he’d just finished working a double and he hadn’t flirted in…he forgot how long. Not since before Nancy.) and for a good minute there he wished the earth would open and up swallow him whole and then-

And then, he heard a breathy laugh and suddenly Steve could think of so many more _not even lines_ if it’d pull more of those sounds outta that mouth.

He turned to face the guy and _damn_. His hair looked golden under the shitty streetlamp, a ring of light like a halo atop his head and _fuck_ , Steve thought it was fitting because this guy looked like an _angel_. (Well, that was until he pulled the smoke from his mouth, grinned a wicked grin in Steve’s direction, stuck out his tongue in a lewd motion that had Steve thinking of nothing but _sin_.)

He held the cig out for Steve, who shook his head no. He’d quit when he met Nancy, because she didn’t like it and he wanted her to like _him_ , and to this day he’d argue that it was the best thing she ever did for him. The guy shrugged, dropped the smoke and stamped it out with a steel-capped toe.

“Well, darlin’,” he said, and his voice was _deep_ , rough but comforting in a way that seeped into Steve’s skin, burrowed into his bones and made itself at home in the pit of his stomach. “I fancy _you_. That count?”

He stalked closer, smile menacing and Steve, who thought he’d had the upper hand, who’d watched the guy watching _him_ and had made the first move, felt suddenly like prey.

Steve swallowed down the nerves that’d lumped up in his throat and threatened to choke him.

“That your best line? Because you have, uh-” he looked down at his phone. “Six minutes to woo me, and I gotta say you’re wasting ‘em.”

The guy smiled again, slow and sweet and dripping with honey and Steve let himself wonder how that mouth would taste on his tongue.

“Won’t need six minutes to woo you, pretty boy,” he was cockier than the kind of guy Steve usually went for, but fuck if he wasn’t right because the way he said pretty boy had Steve’s knees buckling on the spot.

The guy didn’t need to know that, though.

“You seem awfully sure of yourself,” Steve said, giving him a once over, sizing him up as though there was even a choice to be made.

“Just speaking from experience, baby,” the guy drawled, voice low and sultry, the words like syrup falling from his lips.

“Oh, so you finish in under six minutes _often_?” Steve wanted to slap himself the moment he said it (because _idiot, this is so_ not _how you flirt with someone_!) but he couldn’t seem to stop the words from spilling out of his mouth.

The guy didn’t seem deterred though, as he smirked a little wider, his gaze dropping down to Steve’s lips for just a second before finding his eyes again.

“Why don’t you take me home and find out?”

Steve sputtered a little, racking his brain for something witty to say.

When he opened his mouth to speak, all that came out was: “I don’t even know your name.”

The guy crowded up into Steve’s personal space, his movements slow and practiced, almost predatory in a way that made Steve’s skin tingle.

“It’s Billy,” he said, so close Steve could smell the cigarettes and cheap cologne, could see the freckles sprinkled along the bridge of his nose and the lines of his cheeks. Steve wanted to pin him down, count each one with a kiss.

“Steve,” he replied without mistake a beat, right as a dark blue sedan pulled up beside him. Steve glanced at the car and felt an unfamiliar tug of disappointment in his gut. “This is me. So I guess I’ll just…stumble on home to my cats.”

The guy - Billy - didn’t say anything. Smiled a little wider so that Steve got a flash of sharp white teeth and _fuck_ he wanted Billy to _bite him_.

Steve squirmed under his heavy gaze, then said a little pointedly: “ _Alone_.”

But Billy wasn’t budging, crossing his arms over his exposed chest and leaning back to watch Steve struggle. And Steve _wanted_ him. Wanted him to want him back, but maybe Billy just liked the chase, the back and forth, the _game_ of it all.

His six minutes was up and now it was all on Steve’s time (time he was _paying for_ now that his Uber was waiting idly by) but it was _three in the goddamn morning_ and he was _tired_ of the games.

Heaving a sigh, he accepted defeat - accepted that he still wasn’t _wanted_ \- as he pulled open the door to the back seat.

And then, from the corner of his eye, he noticed Billy’s smile falter just a bit and-

‘ _Fuck it_ ,’ Steve thought.

Because he started this. _He_ had made the first move, he could make the last as well.

So, hand still on the door to the car that was still _waiting_ , he turned back to Billy.

“Unless you wanna come along?”


End file.
